


The Short Lives of Birds and Bees

by TextualDeviance



Series: The Raven and the Dove [9]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, References to Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextualDeviance/pseuds/TextualDeviance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lagertha's miscarriage has confused and frightened Athelstan. To help him--and herself--she explains all the things he should have learned as a boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Short Lives of Birds and Bees

**Author's Note:**

> Small mention of Ragnar/Athelstan. Takes place during 1x07, a couple of days after the loss, and a month or so after [Ergi](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1656053).

"You sent for me, my lady?" Athelstan stood at the door to the earl's private quarters. He looked hesitant—nervous, even—though that was to be expected under the circumstances.

Only two days previous, he had been abed with her at her request. She did not want to worry the children, and still did not trust Siggy, so when her discomfort began to increase on a late evening, she asked him to lay with her; to help soothe her pain and fear with a gentle embrace and kind words, the way he had the night that she was so cold. He was happy to help—indeed he seemed grateful for the company himself, given that Ragnar was away and most others still avoided him or treated him with contempt. He even sang her a soft, mesmerizing melody in an unfamiliar language. Latin, he had called it, telling her that it was the main language of his people's holy stories. Not long after they had fallen asleep, arms entwined, she woke him with screams, and a river of thick blood soaking into the bed. He went scrambling for help, and had seemed in shock ever since.

She gave him a smile she hoped looked welcoming. "Athelstan. Thank you for coming. I know you're busy."

"It is no trouble. How can I help you?" He fidgeted, tugging at his sleeves

"Elisef and her healing women are still tending to me, but they are away at the moment helping a child with a broken arm. Siggy has been by my side since it happened, so I sent her home to sleep. And the children were restless from being inside for so long, so I told them to go practice their archery. If your afternoon isn't otherwise spoken for, I would like a companion for a while."

"I've just been doing some mending today. I could put that aside for now."

"I would be grateful. Thank you."

"Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry?"

"No. I don't need food or drink right now. Just be here with me, please." She nodded toward the end of the bed, moving her legs aside to give him a place to sit.

"Of course." He sat gingerly on the edge.

"We haven't really talked since . . . it happened. I'm sure it was very upsetting for you."

He frowned. "My being upset should be the least of your concerns. You should be focusing on resting and recovering."

She smiled thinly. "That's kind of you to say, but it's important to me to make sure you're well, too. The women I have around me all understand these things. Even Bjorn understands some; he was a small child when Gyda was born, but he remembers being there when I brought her forth. We have always been honest with the children, and that includes being honest about our bodies and their differences. But you . . . your first introduction to the mysteries of a woman's body should not have come like this." She gave him a gentle nudge with her knee. "I imagine it has frightened you off of us for good."

He flushed and looked away. "I don't—that's—"

"Relax, Athelstan. I was joking."

He turned back and smiled—the first genuine smile she'd seen from him in days. "I appreciate your concern—and your humor. It's really nothing, though. This is my own trouble that I must work out by myself."

"If that's what you want, then so be it, but if you do have questions, I am happy to answer them."

He shrugged. "I admit there are some things about which I am curious, but you don't have to explain them to me now."

"Things like what?"

"Well," he hummed thoughtfully for a moment, "like how a woman knows she is with child in the first place—or how she knows she is not. Or how she makes certain she won't be if she doesn't want to be. Ragnar said something about herbs, I think, but I didn't ask further. I know some because I helped tend the animals at the monastery, and they of course mated and gave birth, but it's very different with people."  

"It is, yes. For one, we humans live longer, and our lives are focused on more than just surviving long enough to make children—that changes rather a lot." She grinned. "I can answer all of those questions—and any others—if you want to know."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Are you certain you wouldn't rather be resting?"

"I am grown bored of lying here staring at the walls. It would make my healing easier if I felt as if I had something useful to do."

He hesitated, chewing his bottom lip. Finally, he nodded. "All right. I'm listening."

For the better part of the afternoon, she explained everything to him: all the things she told her children as they were growing up; all the things that any child of her people would have known well before their bodies matured. She explained pregnancy and birth. She explained a woman's moon cycles. She even explained to him, with a level of detail he found both fascinating and frightening in equal measure, what parts of a woman's body brought her pleasure and how. He in turn told her about how few memories he had of his mother and family; how the last time he had embraced any woman was the day they gave him away. He told her how upsetting it was when his body started changing and some of the brothers made him feel as if those changes were somehow evil creeping in. He also told her how grateful he was that Ragnar had done so much to help him finally feel at peace with his own flesh, instead of hating it for its mortal failings, though he again made her assure him that she was not upset at the time her husband spent with him.

Odd as it was, teaching the sheltered priest such basic knowledge made her forget about her own pain and loss, and about how her body, so strong and sure before, had betrayed her so cruelly. Eventually, however, the subject did return to that, when she came to the explanation of how a woman's body changes again when she grows older.

"I knew it was a risk," she said, her quiet voice evidence of her growing weariness.

"Knew what was a risk?"

"As women age, sometimes we have difficult pregnancies—well before we cannot get pregnant again at all. We are told by our mothers and the midwives that it is best to have our children early, when our bodies are young and resilient, and we can more quickly recover from birth, and so I did. I spent my early youth training and fighting in the shield wall, yet I was still but 22 when I carried Bjorn. Not very young, no, but still young enough. After Gyda was born, Ragnar still wanted more sons, so we kept trying, but it did not happen. We had already come to accept that we would have only two children when I realized I was expecting again. I have felt perfectly strong and healthy all these years—getting to raid with Ragnar last summer was very exciting for me—so I thought I could escape any problems that might come with being somewhat older. It seems the gods had other ideas."

"I am truly sorry, my lady. I cannot imagine the grief and pain you must feel. I have come to care very much for Bjorn and Gyda, but I have never otherwise known what it is to love one's own child, and therefore how hard it must be to lose one."  He lay a hand on her leg, patting it gently.

She reached for the hand, lacing her fingers with his. "I just don't know what I have done that would make the gods so angry with me that they needed to take this child from me. I am also dreading having to tell Ragnar the news when he returns. The seer told him he would have more sons, yet I don't know now how I am supposed to give him any. I am afraid . . ." she closed her mouth tightly.

"Afraid of what?"

"I am afraid he might blame me—that he might think somehow I was at fault for losing the child."

"I cannot see why he would think such a thing. He loves you. He is devoted to you. He would not blame you for something you could not help. You said yourself that women sometimes lose their pregnancies for no reason other than fate."

"That is true. I just wonder if I've missed something—if there was something I may have done without thinking that may have offended the gods. Perhaps they wished I had been more faithful, or that I had sacrificed something more—" she stopped short, staring at the hand she held, and tried to tell herself that she had not just had that thought. She looked up, into those innocent eyes, and her stomach recoiled. "Uppsala," she whispered, almost under her breath.

"My lady?" he said, a note of alarm in his voice. "Is everything all right?"

She rubbed a hand across her face, and finally she started breathing normally again. "I'm fine, Athelstan. Just a . . . momentary pain. I will be well enough soon. Perhaps it is time that I rest again, however."

"I'm certain it is. I appreciate what you have taught me, but I have kept you talking far too long."

She held onto his hand as he rose. "Thank you for staying here with me. It has done me a great deal of good."

He squeezed her hand, and then let it go. "It was my pleasure. If there is anything that can make things better for you, I will do it gladly."

She gave him a sad, wistful smile. "I will keep that in mind."


End file.
